I look past Josh and to my brothers, who nod in acknowledgement. I don’t say it aloud, but my God, that felt good. I make my way out of Dunmorrow Castle and jump back into the ’copter.
“Where to, sir?” the pilot asks, as I get seated and fasten my belt.
“Swansea. There is an urgent matter I need to discuss with Angus Blackwell.”
I became very well acquainted with Angus after the Pink Ribbon Breast Cancer Charity Gala. I sought Angus’s help after signing the contracts putting me in charge of Calloway Cruises. We spent a week fishing in his private lake where we discussed tactics, and together we have transformed a once-sinking company into a highly profitable business. Angus is not only a shareholder, but my business partner. As I’ve learnt, in life and business, it is much better to have someone you trust by your side.
The next morning, I arrive home to Freesdon Hall. After our cruise, Chelsea and I moved about from estate to estate, none of which truly felt like home. I always found a problem, be it not enough land or not enough bedrooms. Truth is that there wasn’t a problem with any of my estates. The problem lay with me. They say home is where the heart is, and my heart always has resided and always will reside at Freesdon Hall. I made Samantha an offer she couldn’t refuse, and she was only too happy to hand over the keys.
On entering Freesdon Hall, my first port of call is the bedroom where I assume my wife is sleeping.
“Honey, I’m home,” I call as I hurry up the flight of stairs.
“She isn’t there, sir,” Donna calls after me. I turn and see my daughter cradled in our nanny’s arms. Annabelle, named after my mother, was a little surprise who first presented herself during our cruise. We were in St Lucia when Chelsea came down with a terrible sickness bug, though it wasn’t long after we discovered it wasn’t a bug.
Annabelle yawns, and on seeing me her bright blue eyes light up. She has her mother’s eyes, and my mother’s thick raven hair that sits in tight curls on her head. She has my complexion and disposition. I know I’m biased when I say she is the perfect blend of us.
I look past Annabelle and flash a glance at the photographs of our wedding day hanging on the walls. Seven days after we discovered we were pregnant I made arrangements to fly all our family and friends over to St Lucia for a wedding of a lifetime.
“Pass her here,” I say, and open my arms. Donna hands Annabelle over and I hug her close to my chest. “Shall we go and find Mummy?” I ask my six-month-old, who flaps her arms around excitedly.
“Oh, before I forget,” Donna says. “Your father called. He asked if he and Julie could come for dinner later.”
I take a second to mentally go over my day’s itinerary. “Call him back and tell him that’s fine, as long as Julie brings Rocky.”
My and my father’s relationship isn’t anywhere near fixed, and it took him time to get used to the idea of me marrying Chelsea. But all his reservations melted away when Annabelle was born. I saw my father cry for the first time when he held his granddaughter in his arms. He dotes on that little girl in a way I didn’t think was possible, and in turn she absolutely adores her grandfather.
As for Julie, she will never replace my mother, but as Chelsea requested, I have taken the time to get to know her. Her grandson Rocky is an absolute pleasure to be around, and I thoroughly enjoy our tennis matches. The kid is getting good, and I wouldn’t be surprised if one day he played professionally.
I continue down the stairs and make my way out into the gardens. The sky is powder blue with sporadic white wisps of cloud. It’s the perfect morning, and from the weather I know where Chelsea is.
I walk toward the hedges cut into the shape of geisha girls, past the tennis courts, and toward the paddock. I stand and watch as my wife feeds Jupiter a carrot whilst Malcolm, our stable boy, sits in the saddle. Jupiter isn’t there yet, but I know we will be able to ride her again one day.
Malcolm climbs down when he sees me, and Chelsea instinctively turns around. On meeting my stare, she runs over. Annabelle bounces in my arms as her mummy approaches. When Chelsea is close enough, I pull her into a hug and place a kiss on the top of her head.
Chelsea pulls back and retrieves a bottle of antibacterial gel from her pocket. “Don’t let Annabelle get too close to me, not until I’ve washed my hands. You know she’s constantly sucking her fingers now she’s teething.”
I don’t move Annabelle away and simply ignore Chelsea’s complaints. Her OCD has been sparked since having our daughter, whom Chelsea would happily place into a sterile bubble, but that isn’t life. If I’ve learnt anything about my wife’s obsession, it’s that distraction is key. “My father called. He and Julie are coming for dinner tonight. I thought it would be a good time for you and Julie to discuss your next order.”
Julie and Chelsea are the proud owners of a beauty therapy chain named Lotus Flower. They opened their fourth shop last month.
Chelsea holds her hand over her brow to make a visor and peers up at me. “Not tonight. I haven’t seen my sister in ages, so I invited her and Rick for dinner.”
A smile explodes on my face, because although my father has grown to love Chelsea, the same can’t be said for her smart-mouthed older sister. Amber is not afraid of being vocal when it comes to her opinions. An evening with those two in the same room is bound to have fireworks going off.
“Are you going to rearrange dinner with your father?” Chelsea asks.
I laugh. “And miss out on the showdown between him and Amber? Hell no. I’ll text Rick and ask him to bring popcorn.”
Chelsea nudges me playfully. “What should I ask Mrs Collins to make for dinner?”
I ponder her question. “I was thinking we should give the staff the evening off.”
Chelsea raises a brow. “Oh, yeah?”
Annabelle doesn’t move when I kiss her crown and it would seem as though she has fallen asleep in my arms. “I thought Farrah could babysit whilst we cook my mother’s famous cottage pie.”
Chelsea runs her fingers through her hair. “I would like that, only…”